Already Wounded
by AdoAnnieCarnes
Summary: Oneshot from Wendla's POV; sort of an abstract representation of her feelings in WOYB and on. Or maybe it's not abstract at all. :   "Wet skin against wet skin, chilled raw by the rain and cold, by the night."


**A/N: Some pretty SA fluff that makes my world joyful. :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own SA in any way. If I did, it would still be on Broadway. And Melchi Gabor would be my husband.**

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Melchior Gabor.

I couldn't even talk to him; I couldn't even make myself converse with him about anything better than the weather, or school, or the day laborers and their children. But I could _feel_ him, feel him some place inside of me that I don't think anyone's ever been before. It was like I'd already said all of those things to him, all the things buried deep inside my skin, inside my mind, and I knew him better than I'd ever known anyone. I could feel that something was happening here, today, as we stared awkwardly into each others' faces and tried to mumble out all the words we wanted to.

I would see him again.

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If someone were to ask me, I couldn't tell them exactly what was happening here. I saw Melchior often; I could admit that I even looked forward to seeing him.

But I had no idea why.

I didn't want to be his friend. I didn't want to marry him, like Thea. I didn't want to run away from this oak tree and never see him again.

So what was I asking from him?

I met him at his private place in the woods, and sat next to him against the oak, and we would talk. Maybe today I'd laugh at something he told me. Maybe tomorrow he'd think twice about the way I did whatever I did. Maybe yesterday we went away thinking, for only a second, of what transpired next to that oak. But that didn't equal friendship, or love, or any other emotion that would drive two people to meet each other in the most personal of places. So I didn't understand what was happening between us. But I trusted, I knew somewhere deep inside that it was something.

"It's getting late," Melchior murmured to me, musing with his fingers resting on his journal and his eyes on the sky, getting blacker by the minute, and the clouds getting visibly heavier.

Suddenly realizing the time, I stood quickly and brushed my dress off. I turned to him, preparing to say goodbye, and finding myself at a loss for words. This was one of those times when I was just so comfortable with him, but then just so awkward and unsure at the same time. I nodded at him, and was about to step towards the trees when he jumped up beside me and caught me with my goodbye stuck on my lips.

"Come on; I'll walk you to the bridge."

Smiling hesitantly, I followed his lead and watched my feet fall in step just behind his as he led the way to the bridge about half a mile away.

We walked. We walked back this way almost every time we met. It was normal; it should have been comfortable. I could tell that it would soon be dark, and that rain was inevitably coming, so I quickened my pace, quietly skipping just a few feet ahead of Melchior. Then I felt his steps speed up as well and he met my pace, jogging easily in front of me, leading yet again.

Grinning cheekily at the challenge, I leapt forward ahead of Melchior, meeting his eyes as I passed and smiling innocently and playfully. Challenging him.

And so it continued, a childish battle for dominance as we leapt and frolicked and sprinted through the forest, only pausing to hear the thunder breaking above our heads as twilight drew nearer. The rain began to fall, heavy and clean, dousing us in water and seeping through our clothes to chill our skin and cool our bones as we just kept running, laughing and grinning the whole way.

Melchior ran up behind me and unexpectedly grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him. The feel of his skin, his wet hand against mine made me shiver from something other than the rain as I followed him, knowing that the trees would soon break and I'd see the bridge. When I did, we both stopped, laughing and panting, and I felt his hand slip out of mine. We stood, our breath slowing and our laughter dying as we stood up a little straighter and looked less at the ground and more at each other.

My eyes swept over Melchior curiously without me really ever giving them permission to do so, taking him in; I could feel his eyes on me, doing the same.

The first thought that sped through my mind was noticing just how soaked we both were. His clothes clung to his body, and I knew mine did the same. But the second thought that came was noticing just how beautiful he was in the rain. His hair was tousled and shimmering from the little droplets that consistently dripped from his curls to fall across his face. His eyes shone with the remnants of our laughter. His white collared shirt hugged his chest, washed nearly transparent by the rain. I had never looked at a man like this before. I noticed how he did have muscles running along his arms and chest, toned and obviously tough, but not overwhelming. I noticed how he was sturdy and strong, well built and sure in his body. But Melchior wasn't at all cocky.

Taking in all of him with my eyes, he was so beautiful. But not the way the men working in town were, or the way Mama always says my father is as he leaves for work; put together and formal. Melchior had this sort of raw, rugged beauty about him that awakened something under my skin, something that my body craved but my mind was unsure of – something that I as a whole had never experienced and that I didn't understand.

But it felt sweet, and warm and encompassing. Lovely and fragile, but very present and _there_ in me.

_And he touched me. And I let him love me._

Wet skin against wet skin, chilled raw by the rain and the cold, by the night.

_So let that be my story._

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**So I might change the ending later; I wrote it in a hurry but wanted to see what people thought of the whole thing first. So... please REVIEW! Thanks you.**_  
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